


Compliance

by FidgetyWriter



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, lmao when am i ever canon compliant in fallout 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15166097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FidgetyWriter/pseuds/FidgetyWriter
Summary: Lucy Juarez always said "yes" when she really meant "no" to avoid conflict. Until the one time Danse’s life hung in the balance. Until the one time she didn't.





	Compliance

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on my non-canon compliance.
> 
> Shaun is my female Sole Survivor's nephew, rather than son (losing her son is just too sad, Todd Howard). And she's not married or a lawyer.
> 
> Also, please note, I did not tag it as such but there is a brief mention of sexual assault in section 3.
> 
> Spoilers abound for Danse's personal mission.

1\. “Of course. I understand.”

Lucy swallowed the stream of angry excuses that bubbled in her mouth and smoothed out her blue dress over her knees. She tried to think of _Abuela_ , who bought her the dress, instead of the six RobCo East Coast board members staring daggers at her from across the starkly white conference room.

She thought...she _knew_ it was the right thing to report the infractions when she’d discovered them on her manager’s terminal. He’d been taking dangerous shortcuts in development--ones Lucy could directly link to that computer that blew up in some poor old lady’s house in Boston and nearly flash burned her face off. The same old lady Lucy’s manager had sent a note to, while she was still in the hospital, of profuse apology with a promise to investigate “anything that could have led to this horrible but likely unpreventable tragedy”.

It turned out the shortcuts were based on direct orders from Corporate HQ, and RobCo didn’t care until something threatened to cut into the company’s profits.

“You’re lucky we’ve decided to put you in a sales rep position instead of outright firing you,” the chairman of the East Coast Board told her, as if he was giving her a gift. “Know the company is watching you closely, Miss Juarez.”  
___________________________________________________  
2\. “Yeah, I can totally watch Shaun tonight,” Lucy lied.

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ , Lucia!” her sister, Celia, gushed, practically dropping the baby in Lucy’s arms as she danced toward the door. “You know I just haven’t had any time to myself since I had him, and it’s not like his _cabrón_ of a father will take him. Did I tell you that bastard has a new girlfriend already? Anyways, I have Maricruz’s bachelorette party tonight and I can’t miss that!”

Lucy thought about bringing up the fact that Celia had dropped Shaun off with her the past four Friday nights in a row and then gone and had plenty of time to herself without her son. By the time the words came up, however, her sister was out the door and halfway to the car. 

Shaun gurgled into her shoulder. Lucy called out to the back of the house for Brady but received no answer. Grimacing, she sent the same message to her Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor that she’d sent every Friday for the past month.

“Sorry, I have to miss the meeting. Watching my nephew. Again.”  
_______________________________________  
3\. “Yes, please,” Lucy purred to the sleazy ghoul with his few remaining strands of hair slicked back like he was some greaser from before the War (with a capital W...God, everyone she’d known, all her sisters, her abuela, that stupid lady who lived up the street with that equally stupid poodle-all dead, dead, _dead_ ). The needle in his open palm, barely visible in the shaky lighting of some Goodneighbor back alley, promised relief from it all. 

Brady was dead too, and Lucy wasn’t sure if the fact that she’d watched her fiance, the man who had gotten her and Shaun a space in the Vault alongside him (after nearly coming to blows with the officer at the gate who tried to keep them out because they “weren’t on the list”) take a bullet to the brain trying to keep the strange man with a voice like gravel from kidnapping her nephew was the most painful of all or a shameful relief. Because, sure, he’d gotten them into the Vault with him (it was only by chance she’d spent the night at his place...they’d put Shaun in a drawer to sleep because there was no crib), but he’d also called her stupid a few weeks ago (no...210 years ago). And the same night he’d proposed she’d had too much wine, and he’d pinned her to the bed with his body weight and fucked her, whispering “shhh shh iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou don't cry” as if that made it okay.

The Med-X injected into the bruised veins of her left arm felt a lot better than any of that.  
__________________________________________  
4\. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Lucy snapped back at Rhys’s snide comment. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?”

Scribe Haylen was pulling two vials out of her pack to take blood samples of the ghouls freshly dead at their feet. The laser rifle in Lucy’s hands felt hot even through the gloves Danse had lent her.

“Low on ammo?” Danse’s voice floated across from the left side barrier in front of the police station. The gun in his hands, held low near his waist, was still smoking. 

“Hardly,” Lucy replied, feigning a confidence she did not feel. “At least some of us who aren’t Rhys can take these ferals down with one clean shot to the head.” Rhys snorted audibly in disgust.

“You’ve come a long way with the rifle, Lucy,” Danse answered with a rare grin. The compliment, and the fact that he’d used her first name instead of just calling her “recruit” filled her with almost enough warmth to ignore the fact that the ghoul at her feet was not feral at all, judging by the familiar slicked back greaser hairstyle.  
___________________________

5\. “ _No_.”

Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to force herself not to break eye contact with the man staring her down from the other side of the room.

“You have orders--” Danse insisted.

“ _I don’t care._ ”

“I’ve accepted my fate,” he practically pleaded. “But you have to know...I didn’t know, I swear, I didn’t know I am a synth.”

“I’m not going to kill you. If it means I’m out of the Brotherhood, then I’m out.”

There was a long silence in which Danse seemed to contemplate the depth of her words.

“I won’t…” His voice broke. “I won’t see you throw this all away for me.”

“If the price of staying is your life, then I’m not paying it. Not after you took me in, not after you let me ride out withdrawal at the police station, not after you _fucking believed in me_ when nobody else did, not after…”

“After what?”

His voice was barely audible. Lucy drew in a deep breath.

“Not after I fell head over stupid heels in love with you, Danse.”

The string of “yes”es he pulled from her, lips on the nape of her neck and arms all but cradling her, about ten minutes later in the dim lighting of the abandoned underground watch post, she was more than happy to give him.


End file.
